Page 533

Because my brain rejects it on impact.

“What?”

He says it slower, like I’m the one having trouble keeping up.

“Fake. Date. Me.”

I stare.

He shrugs one shoulder.

“You need people to stop looking at you like you just got run over by a love story.”

My jaw tightens.

“And your idea is…”

“You date me.” He gestures vaguely between us. “For show.”

I blink at him twice.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I’m completely serious.”

“You are literally the last man on earth I would choose.”

He grins again.

“Perfect. That’s how you know it’ll work.”

I look around, just to check whether I am perhaps being filmed for some new hidden-camera trauma series.

Nope.

Still my life.

“Drew.”

“Isa.”

“Why would I fake date you?”

He counts off on his fingers.

“One, people stop pitying you.”

“I do not need pity management.”

“Clearly.”

I ignore that.

“Two,” he goes on, “everybody loves a rebound arc.”

“I am not having a rebound arc.”

“Fine. A revenge arc.”